Belonging
by Noldesse
Summary: Written for the 2015 February Teitho challenge, Out of Place. A few hours before his wedding, Aragorn contemplates his place in the world.


**Belonging**

The White City had never looked so festive before this day. The sun shone merrily down on a most splendid scene. Garlands made of wildflowers hung from the walls, delicate draperies in hues of red, yellow, blue, and pink. Their aromas wafted through the air, some heavy, some sweet, all mixed together. The streets had been swept, washed, and scrubbed, so that in place of gray dirt the cobblestones shone blinding white. Banners bearing the royal symbol were posted on every corner. Musicians could be seen in throngs, nervously practicing songs, trying to choose the best. All the kitchens were occupied in preparation for the great event about to happen. Only a few more hours remained; the citizens hurried through the last lingering tasks.

Gray eyes beheld the scene below, and a sigh escaped his lips. Aragorn felt suddenly uneasy, unsure if he could continue. But he would, he must. His new people would be displeased if he did not. They had worked all through the night and into the day to make the City presentable to their guests, the Elves of Imladris. For today was Midsummer's Day, and Aragorn would be wedded to Arwen, the one thing his heart desired most, the one victory he sought by finding his true path.

He could slip away now, take Arwen with him, and they could ride together into the sunset. There would be no audience, no testimony but the stars to their union. That was all it took anyway, bodily union equaled an unbreakable bond to the Noldor, Arwen's kin. Yes, he could slip away unnoticed! All his Ranger training would suit him, and her imperceptible elven footsteps would fall inaudible on mortal ears.

But no, he was King now, such foolish thoughts were a far cry from propriety for one in his station, and for Arwen's as well. He would have to suffer through a very large and public wedding. Lord Elrond would ensure it would be so.

Aragorn was not fond of large crowds, something he knew he would have to become accustomed to now as King. He much preferred being in the wild, alone with his thoughts. No one would trouble him; he would have no one to look after but himself. Those blissful days of solitude were long gone; he had a kingdom to look after now.

A kingdom! He had always hoped, always dreamed, but never imagined that it would come true, that he would be a lord. Estel he was named in the face of great odds…and he had accomplished such an amazingly impossible feat, with much help. How many times he had doubted, wanted to turn back, fearing the weakness that flowed through his veins. But no more. He had proven himself, claimed his inheritance and kingship, and won Lady Arwen, the reason he did all his deeds.

A knock sounded on the door before it opened. Aragorn knew who it was even before he heard the voice. In the face of such uncertainty, this was the force that still remained, a source of strength and reassurance to him. So long as he remained by his side, Aragorn knew that he would be able to overcome much.

They smiled enigmatically at him, crossing the threshold without invitation. Elladan and Elrohir. Ever the rousers of trouble, ever there for him in time of great need. But where was he, the one he really needed now?

"Welcome, my brothers," Aragorn said, bowing slightly to them.

"We are here to—"

"—help you ready yourself."

"For what?"

The twins gave him a scathing look.

"Your wedding!" they replied in unison.

"Ah, yes, of course…"

"Nervous, are you?" Elladan asked.

Aragorn offered a smile but failed.

"You should be. Ada will likely give you a Talk."

Aragorn laughed, though not entirely lightly. Lord Elrond, when enraged, was not a force to be taken lightly. A memory, from another life it seemed, surfaced: a practical joke on the Lord of Imladris once sent the three scampering into the woods for three days out of fear. Glorfindel had taken pity and smuggled food to them.

There came another knock on the door, but this visitor waited for permission to enter. Aragorn smiled then, knowing it was Legolas at last.

"My Lords Elladan and Elrohir, your father sent me to find you. He requests your presence," Legolas said, bowing slightly to the dark-haired ellyn before him.

They nodded, silently leaving the room. The fair-haired Elf securely locked the door behind them. Aragorn remained where he was, a stern look on his face.

"Resorting to lies are we now?" he asked. "Such behavior, from an Elven Prince…"

"I know not to what you are referring. Lord Elrond always seeks out his sons," came the cool reply, but both friends laughed anyway. "So, are you ready?"

Aragorn swallowed. "Would it be fair to tell Arwen that I would rather face Orcs than stand before a great gathering of people just to prove our love to the world?"

"Oh come now, I will be at your side. It is not too difficult," Legolas said. "And you know the Noldor, they always need such lavish ceremonies for every occasion."

Aragorn chuckled. He watched as his friend carefully unwrapped the ceremonial robes he was to wear for the wedding. Legolas had brought them in with him, for the Elf was to dress his friend. The reality of events began to sink in. Legolas turned towards the Man, azure eyes full of pride. Then a small smirk formed on his lips.

"You can always do what Ada suggested to me the very first time I had to address his courtiers on my own," the Elf said, struggling to suppress his laughter.

"And, pray, what is that?" Aragorn asked, suddenly weary of the answer.

"Imagine the audience in their undergarments!" Legolas descended into hysterics.

Yes, Aragorn mused, Thranduil would say that indeed!

As Legolas dressed him, Aragorn's thoughts roved back to the beginning, trying to find courage in the face of his wedding. It was not so much the wedding that made him nervous, but the knowledge of what the wedding meant: that he was now High King of Men, and he would be alone in a world that he was unaccustomed to.

As much as he was delighted in all that he had accomplished, Aragorn could not help but feel like he was a stranger, thrown in the midst of Men. They regarded him curiously, too, as he seemed more at ease in the company of Elves. With each layer of clothing, he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into his memories, trying to find a strand of strength to hold onto:

_I was born in a desolate village of the remnants of my people, the Dúnedain, a legend even before I could form memories. When my father was killed, my mother saw fit to hide me in Imladris, where Lord Elrond agreed to foster me, calling me Estel in an effort to hide my heritage. It was not until I was twenty years of age that I became aware of my true ancestry._

_Ah, Imladris, such a dream! Learning from Lord Elrond and his sons, who took me as one of their own. I was taught all manner of lore, mainly that of the Elves, and my own darker history, unknown to me at the time. They were kind and patient with me, as my mortality oftentimes slowed me, and my intellect was not at their capacity._

_Not only did they teach me their history and language, but they tried to enhance me externally as well. They dressed me in their clothes, in fabrics too fine for my body, in patterns too exquisite for my bearing. I was not as lithe, quick, sharp-witted, nor possessed of such a great memory as they. My voice, though fair in its own way, lacked the distinctive, clear, bell-like quality theirs possessed. I was as refined as I could be in light of my mortal shortcomings, thanks to all their efforts. _

_But even there in Imladris, with all that warmth, I felt disconnected. There were things I could not be a part of, for I was not of elvenkind. They would discuss matters I could not appreciate, not having their heritage to link me emotionally. My skills were limited to my state of mortality. When I learned who I was, things were clearer. I could hear some of the other Elves commenting about me, about this human in an elven place. At times it would upset me, but always Lord Elrond quelled my anger. _

"_Still your heart, Estel, save your wrath for a deserving purpose," he would say._

"_I feel foreign here, not in my element," I said. Elrond looked at me._

"_It is not your abode, where you truly belong; until you find your place in the world, you will feel this way. But fret not, while I remain here, this is your home as well," he said. "Where your heart is at ease, that is where you truly belong. Remember that."_

"_Do you think so, that one day I will find my home, where I belong?"_

_Lord Elrond gave me a look, one I knew all too well, the one he bore when foreseeing the future. _

"_In time, when you discover who you are and come to understand the power within you, then you may find contentment," he answered, cryptically as ever. _

_Over the years as I travelled, coming into contact with more Men and fewer Elves, I was not at ease, as I had first anticipated. I could not understand how they threw away their days over mundane matters, forgetting the past, refusing to rise against the evil that spread through the lands. Instead they hid within their homes. I found their voices and appearances uncouth. So I travelled with my kin, the Dúnedain._

_What was this feeling towards my fellow men? Why did I disdain them so? Had I spent too much time in Imladris, pretending to be an Elf, even when I knew that I was not, no matter how well I spoke their language and dressed like them? Had I become so disconnected from my humanity that its fragility frightened me? Perhaps I was no better than they, these mortals that I could not bear._

_I knew, though, that my place was amongst Men, and not Elves. So I immersed myself in the culture of my own people, the Dúnedain, allowing myself to become more comfortable around them, more familiar with their ways. Slowly my uneasiness began to dissipate, and I began to wonder how I had tolerated living in Imladris all those years, amongst a people who were not my own, yet afforded me great upbringing. They were lofty, living among the stars, while the world drifted into decay. They did not care anymore, they were biding their time, looking for stewards to replace them. _

_It was at the Council of Elrond that I realized that I could no longer hide in the shadows, as my predecessors had done. My lineage was shared with all, much to my dismay, where it was met with equal parts awe and anger. Ever since Lord Elrond had told me, I had learned to accept my past, but feared what it would mean for me. Such weakness, such shame, is not lightly forgotten—especially in Imladris, where the Elves both pitied and scorned me for it._

_Then the tide turned. A leader was needed, someone to guide the Company, as it became clear that the Elves would not actively engage in this matter, knowing that the autumn of their time in Middle-earth had dawned. It was up to Men, they stated, to save the world, or watch it burn forevermore. Lord Elrond's eyes found mine from across the balcony, and I knew that my time had come._

_But would this Company accept me? Gandalf and Legolas already trusted me, as did the Hobbits. Gimli seemed indifferent. It was Boromir that troubled me the most. He was a Man like me, and from Gondor. He knew fully the story of my ancestors, their rise and eventual fall. His father was Steward, he would never look to me as captain—I could see it in the way he looked at me then. Would he trust me? More importantly, did I trust myself?_

_The days came and went, and slowly the Company as a whole began to look to me for guidance. My anxiety began to disappear as I gained reassurance. But then tragedy struck, a test of my prowess as leader, and of their faith in me. Our grief at our supposed loss of Gandalf in Moria greatly saddened me. I had lost my confidant, my main source of support and advice. I blamed myself for his death, and for everything else that went wrong. But what was to be done? Our cause was much greater, so we carried on to Lothlórien, to rest our minds as well as our bodies. _

_Boromir's fall I blamed on myself as well. I had seen how he had eyed Frodo and the Ring in Imladris, coveting it for his father, for a weapon against the Enemy-a hope that could never come to fruition.. What troubled me more was what I saw mirrored in him: all his hopes and dreams for the world of Men crashing down in the onslaught of death that Sauron wrought. Why did the race of Man have to be easily corruptible, succumb so willingly to evil? Were we all without hope, without strength? Could one of us rise above the shadows and proclaim our strength to the world, rid ourselves of this disease?_

_As the three of us stood there, Legolas, Gimli, and myself, on the western shore of the river Anduin, staring toward the opposite bank, where Sam and Frodo were, I realized that there was one who could bring hope to the world of Men, one who could end the destruction that Sauron had wreaked for years. All the tutelage I had received in Imladris from Lord Elrond would not go to waste. All of my travels were not for naught. The Dúnedain would rule again, show Sauron and all of Middle-earth that not all Men are blind of heart and mind. For after all this strife, I would finally lay down my sword, and take as my wife the Lady Arwen. Then would my heart be truly at peace and ease, then would I be at home, no longer a stranger wandering out of place. _

"All done."

Legolas' clear voice cut through Aragorn's reverie sharply, so engrossed was he in his thoughts about the past, of memories long gone, and some fresher than others.

Elessar stared at his reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing himself.

"What…?" he stuttered.

"This is who you are, Elessar. Not the disheveled young Ranger I met so long ago in my father's halls, looking lost and out of place. No longer. You are Elessar Telcontar, High King of the West, of the united realms of Arnor and Gondor. You are what I have always envisioned a Lord of the Dúnedain to be," Legolas said, standing behind him, his eyes shining with tears of pride. "You are home."

Aragorn looked back carefully at his reflection, trying to find himself amongst the finery. Such majesty, such power—he did not know he possessed it. But he had felt it in his blood. There was no lost look, no hint of trying to remain unseen, or of still seeking to find a place for himself. His gray eyes were alight in a manner he had never seen before, as if to tell him: Elessar, you are truly home now. You have all that you have ever desired. Rest.

Elessar could see Legolas' smile in the mirror, but then it faltered.

"What is wrong, my friend? Why the sad face on such a joyous day?" he asked.

"Long have I prayed for you to reach this day, yet now that it is here, I worry about my own place in the world. Strange, is it not? You were hesitant in Imladris before the Council, and now I feel the same. The time of the Elves is over; the dominion of Men is here. Where shall I go? I feel that the old comforts of my home will not satisfy me anymore, but I do not wish to fulfill the Sea-longing yet, not while you are here," he said.

The Man smiled then, turning from the mirror to face Legolas. Though to most mortals he would seem unchanged, Aragorn could see from the light in Legolas' eyes that he carried new weariness.

"Do you remember what you told me then, at the Council, my old friend?"

"That I would follow you to whatever end," Legolas responded. "That as long as I remain by your side, you have nothing to fear."

"Do you think that now the Quest is over, and Sauron defeated, that I am still not unsure of myself? I need counsel now more than ever; being King is more responsibility than I have ever had to face. Your place is here beside me, as it has been since Imladris. What say you?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas was quiet, but slowly his smile returned, and the King knew that he would stay.

A knock on the door—the time for the wedding had arrived.

"A wise man once told me that home is where the heart is," Aragorn said to Legolas. "Here is to be my home, with Arwen, and with you at my side, just as it has been, and I hope always will be. Only now can I truly say that I am not out of place, that my heart is at ease and content. I have finally found where I belong."


End file.
